


Luck

by wonderboi



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderboi/pseuds/wonderboi
Summary: Stanford Pines has been thinking about the possibility that 'luck' actually exists.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines
Comments: 13
Kudos: 67





	Luck

**Author's Note:**

> First gf fic woo!

_I'm so lucky._

Stanford gazed at his brother. Stanley was currently humming to himself, swaying his hips to some song as he flipped his pancakes. Ford had long since stopped doing whatever he had been doing at the dining table ("Dinner table is for food, not nerd junk," Stanley had said but never enforced). It hadn't been important. In fact, it was so unimportant that he couldn't remember what it was. Reading maybe? It was only to pass the time while he waited for breakfast, but now he was occupied in another way. 

As a scientist and a man of logic, Stanford didn't truly believe in 'luck'. Things happened for a reason, because of reasons, and sometimes those reasons might be elusive - but they were always there. Mostly. Traveling across multiple dimensions had made Ford's perception of things a tad more flexible - but not when it came to blatant superstition. 

What _wasn't_ luck was finding the Stan o' War when he and Stanley were younger. It was inevitable that they would find it, with them being curious children and living on the beach. If they didn't find the cave that day, they would have found it the next. There was only so much to explore, and a boarded up cave was exactly the thing that perked their shared interest of adventure. 

It wasn't luck that Stanford was pushed into the portal. He and Stan were fighting in a very dangerous place with very sensitive equipment. With Ford being the (selfish, arrogant, _stupid-_ ) prideful young man that he was, he hadn't even bothered pulling the plug on the machine; much less destroying it. It was his so-called life's work. All of the preparation and all of the calculations took hours upon hours, Stanford couldn't even bring himself to delete the software. The fact that it had been so easy to turn on was his fault. 

It wasn't luck that Stanley was able to bring him back. Stanley was (brilliant, intelligent, _amazing-_ ) clever. He always had been. Stanford knew that if he had just been taught right, if the information in school had been presented to him properly, he would have thrived. He could have gone to college - hell, university of he wanted to. It was a disservice to Stanley. He had accomplished so much of Ford's work with only one third of the information and no dream demon to help him. It had always been a fear of Stanford's when he was small - that Stanley would realize how brilliant and great and normal he was, and he would leave Ford and his freakish fingers behind. 

(When had he begun to think of Stanley as less than him?) 

It was not luck that saved the day during Weirdmageddon. Stanley did. 

Hindsight is always 20/20, and nowadays Ford finds himself looking back on his life more and more. Perhaps it was a byproduct of getting older. Despite all of the magic and mystery of Gravity Falls, Ford never found himself believing in 'luck'. 

Until recently. 

Stanford wanted to think that Stan getting his memories back was because of his strength, because of his love for his family. It was because he was a force to be reckoned with. It was because of his force of will. It was because the memory gun wasn't foolproof. 

His logical brain didn't want to accept that it was pure luck. 

It was pure luck that Stanley could be with Ford like this, carefree on the adventure of their dreams. He shouldn't have gotten his memories back after having his mind scrubbed. Stanley could be puttering around the Mystery Shack right now, relearning everything he knew. Not knowing the names of the people who loved him the most - whom he loved in return strong enough to sacrifice his entire being. 

Even worse, Stanley could still be on the Stan o' War II, with no memories and going along with the whims of a twin he didn't know - living a dream he couldn't recall. 

It was pure luck that Ford had Stanley as his twin at all. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

Stanford came out of his daydream with a few blinks. Stanley was looking at him over his shoulder from the stove, most of the pancakes finished. How long had he been lost in his own mind? 

"It's -" _nothing,_ Ford didn't say. They had promised not to keep anymore secrets. "- embarrassing." 

Stanley just shrugged and went back to cooking. "That doesn't really narrow it down. A lot of embarrassing stuff has happened to you." 

Stanford chuckled. His brother was always good at making him smile without trying. "It's not like that." 

"Then what's up?" 

"I was thinking about… the statistical probabilities of several things and the scientific existence of 'luck'." 

Stanley scoffed "Luck? I thought you hated that mumbo-jumbo. Always went on about how 'illogical' it was." 

"Yes, well… I'm trying to accept that I may be wrong about things sometimes." 

"Woah, really?!" Stanley let out a loud guffaw. From anyone else, the sentiment would have been offensive. From Stan… well, Ford was just happy to hear his laugh. "I better mark this down on the calendar! 'The Day Sixer Admitted He Was Wrong About Something'." 

"I've done that several times since we began sailing together!" 

"Yeah, but it still deserves a celebration," Stanley finished doing something with the maple syrup before plopping the plate down in front of Ford. There was a smiley face drawn on his pancakes. 

_God, I'm so damn lucky._

They both dug into breakfast with gusto. As usual, the 'stancakes' were delicious. Sure, Stanley constantly threatened how much hair would be in them, but Ford hadn't found a single one yet. He was pretty sure Stan was messing with him. He did that a lot. 

"So what got you thinkin' about luck?" Stan asked through a mouthful of stancakes. "You wondering if you're unlucky or something? Mom used 'ta say that your hands were good luck." 

"Maybe she was right," Ford finished chewing and swallowing his food before he spoke. "I've been thinking lately that I'm quite lucky." 

Stanford had expected his brother to play the pessimistic card. It was common for them to take opposing sides in a conversation not because they believed it, but because they could use a sounding board. Surely Stan would remind him of how he was bullied in school for his birth anomaly, or his failure to get into his dream school. Surely he would talk about how he spent thirty years away from home in a strange land and how he was tricked by a demon that wanted to take over the universe. 

But Stanley only smiled warmly. "Glad you finally think so." 

Ford blushed. He continued to elaborate "I'm… very lucky for many things, Stanley. My intelligence, my wonderful grand niece and nephew," the blush turned a shade darker. "I'm also lucky to have… you." 

That seemed to catch Stan off guard. "Me?" 

"Yes…" Ford carefully, oh so carefully, moved his hand across the table. Slowly enough so that Stanley could see and move if he wanted to. He didn't. Ford reached his twin's hand and entwined their fingers together. "One might even say I'm extremely lucky." 

"... You sure know how to flatter a guy," Stan said and - oh, he was flushed as well. Ford could definitely stand to see more of that expression. Especially if it was directed at himself. 

"It's not flattery if it's true." 

"Careful, Sixer. You keep on this and my head might get even bigger than it already is." 

_Good,_ Stanford thought. _You deserve to think highly of yourself._

"Is that really such a bad thing?" he said instead. 

Stanley looked at him like he grew a second head, or maybe a seventh set of fingers. It made Ford smile. He loved all of his brother's expressions. Stanley shook his head. 

"I'm the lucky one here," he said. "Obviously."

_'Obviously'_ meaning the memory loss - meaning surviving the ten years he spent alone - meaning Stanford forgiving him for a dumb mistake they both made as children. 

"Don't look at me like that. It's not what you think," Stanley read his twin's mind; or perhaps his face. He never was good at hiding things from him. "I mean I'm the one lucky to have _you_ as a brother." 

"Because I let you copy my homework in school?" Stanford said, trying to derail the subject. It used to be that he was desperate for praise, that he drank it in like a starving animal, but after being humbled during Weirdmageddon he was almost as bad at accepting it as Stan. 

"Nah," Stanley said. He had not finished his stancakes yet, but he still got up from his chair to approach Ford. Stanford's throat was suddenly dry - or maybe it always had been - and his food made a lump in his throat when he swallowed. Certainly there wasn't a lump in there for any other reason. 

"Is it - is it because I tolerate you walking around in your boxers?" 

"Nope," Stanley popped the 'p' sound. He was inching closer. 

"Because I don't throw you overboard for your terrible jokes?"

"Try again," Stanley was close enough to make the hair on the back of Ford's neck stand up. 

"I…" Ford tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He failed. "I give up." 

He hadn't noticed when their lips became so close. Except that was a lie. He had been hyper aware of his proximity to Stan's face. It just felt like time was skipping forwards in chunks - but also slowing to a torturous crawl. Ford's perception of time was beginning to deteriorate so rapidly that he was worried he was hallucinating. 

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" 

Except Stan didn't say that. He managed to say around half of his sentence before Ford surprised himself and closed the distance between them. He honestly didn't think he had it in him - but there he was - kissing his twin brother on the lips. 

Stanley's lips were dry and partially cracked, an unfortunate side effect of sailing in such cold weather. He tasted like maple syrup and pancakes, like home. Stanford was coming home after a long day. A long, long day. Maybe even a year. Maybe forty years. Maybe longer. 

Stanley's smile under his lips grew wider and he loved it. He loved Stan's smile. He had wanted to do this every time he grinned or smirked Ford's way - and it was a lot. It had become a bit of an obsession, wondering what Stanley's smile would feel like under his lips. 

Stanford's hypothesis was correct: he could get addicted to this. 

He barely caught himself leaning forwards and chasing after Stan when he pulled away. He was still smiling, and Ford found himself mirroring it. 

"That's why I'm the lucky one," Stanley said. 

"Then I suppose it goes both ways," replied Stanford, still staring at his brother's lips and licking his own in sympathy. 

He wouldn't tell Stanley, but Ford still thought he was the luckier of the two.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed my starving family


End file.
